From Beginning to End
by The Meadowlark
Summary: Race asked him to tell their story, beginning to end. Lead has an empty notepad and a sharp pencil, and that's all he needs.
1. I

7 December, 2006

Author's Note: Greetings to all! This is my first Newsies fan fiction, although I have written a few fan fics in _The Outsiders_ category on a different account. (XoXoXOutsiderChickXoXoX) I realize how insanely short this first chapter is, but it is really only an introduction to give a vague idea of where this story is going. I'll be uploading the next chapter tonight very shortly, and I promise that it'll be much longer! Some general information: the name Lead is pronounced led, as in pencil lead or lead poisoning. I didn't want anyone to get confused and think that it was pronounced leed, as in _I'm leading my horse to the stable_ lol. No need to review on this first chapter, as there isn't much to it. ( but you can if you want!) If you read the second chapter, it would be great if you reviewed to tell me how I'm doing so far. You certainly don't have to, but reviews help me grow as a writer by showing me what I can fix and what I should avoid doing in the future. Okey dokey, onto the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Newsies or claim to own them.

--

From Beginning to End

I

Race asked him to tell their story, beginning to end. Lead has an empty notepad and a sharp pencil, and that's all he needs.

--

Lead sat on his bunk unmoving, an empty notepad on his lap and a pencil placed behind his ear. He was alone in the lodging house. The other newsies were all out, most likely selling their papers. _That's what I should be doin'_, Lead thought to himself. But Lead knew what he _really_ should be doing. He looked down at the empty notepad and he was reminded of the pressing words Racetrack had urgently confided in Lead. . .

_"Write it all down, Lead, from beginning to end. You know our story better dan anyone else. I know dat da woids are already in your head, ya just gotta put 'em on paper. Don't let no one forget, kid. Especially not yourself." With those words, Ractrack turned to walk out of the room but turned back to Lead before he reached the door. Rummaging in his pocket, he presented a small rectangular tin box to Lead and handed it to him. "Give it ta Snipes, kid. I know he'd want 'em. And take one for yourself. Might make a man outta ya." Racetrack smiled weakly at Lead before giving him an affectionate slap on his back and walking out the front door of the Newsboys' Lodging House into the sweltering night, never to be seen again by any of his fellow newsies. _

_Watching Racetrack disappear into the night, Lead felt truly abandoned. He couldn't explain it, but he somehow knew at that moment that Racetrack was gone. Forever. Racetrack, the one who had gotten him out of the refuge, who had taught him everything about being a newsie, who had introduced him to Bryon Denton. His best friend, gone forever. _

_Lead looked down at the tin box he held in his hand. Hesitantly, he took the lid off and looked inside. Six unsmoked cigars lay side by side in the box: Race's stash. Lead dropped the box on the floor before he himself collapsed next to the fallen cigars. It was that way that the other newsies found him hours later, rocking himself back and forth and sobbing uncontrollably. Half delirious in his own sorrow, Lead was carried up to his bunk by Jack Kelley, who took his shoes and hat off for him and placed him under the covers of his bed. _

_The next day, nobody said a word to Lead about his behavior. They didn't have to ask him to know what had happened. The spilled cigars on the floor told the whole story. _

Lead quickly came back to the present. After bringing himself out of that painful memory, which had taken place only one week ago, Lead angrily wiped away the hot tears that were silently streaming down his face. The sorrow and hurt that had been eating at his heart since the disappearance of his best friend suddenly turned to determination. Opening the notebook to the first page, fresh and clean, Lead took the pencil from behind his ear and began writing.

_I'll do your story justice, Race. You can count on me._


	2. II

7 December 2006

Author's Note: You've made it to Part II! Congratulations! lol, ok, so there wasn't much to Part I, but as I told you before, it was just a brief introduction. Hopefully this chapter will be much more satisfactory, at least in the length department. For this story, I think you can expect updates from me once or twice a week, depending on how much free time I have. Lately, I've been able to write a lot during my study hall period in school, but when the next semester starts, I won't have study hall anymore. Nevertheless, I will do my best to update at least every week.

Anyways, if you didn't guess already, Part II is the beginning of Lead's story and takes place before the events of Part I. It tells about Lead's experience in the refuge and of the first time he met our beloved Racetrack! Snyder, the naughty warden of the refuge, has a small role in this chapter, but, as always, Lead (known as Ray in this chapter) is the main focus of this story! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from _Newsies_ or claim to own them.

--

From Beginning to End

II

_Race asked him to tell their story, beginning to end. Lead has an empty notepad and a sharp pencil, and that's all he needs._

--

Ray Osbourne stared down at his feet as he sat in a hard, straight-backed chair outside of Snyder's office. From inside the room he could hear Snyder and Vincent, the refuge's head chef, talking together. The two men were talking in sharp, hostile voices, so Ray was able to make out every word they uttered quite clearly.

"The boy always has his head in the clouds! Countless times I have found him hidden in the bunkroom doing nothing but staring out the window." In a lower, conspiratol voice, the robust chef added, "If you ask me, the boy is more than a little daft."

"Raymond is quite bright, I can assure you. His records prove that," Snyder retorted stiffly. The warden had never been fond of the refuge's chef and would gladly take the side of one of the boys if it was against Vincent. Vincent was known for the ruthless way in which he ordered about the boys, boxing them on the ears or threatening them with his horse whip when they said or did the wrong thing. Snyder believed that he should be the sole person privileged enough to punish the boys and resented anyone who tried to do his job. Vincent was not a favorite of Snyder's, and it showed in the chef's meager salary.

"Now I suggest, sir, that you spend more time cooking and less time terrorizing these boys," Snyder said, disgust evident in his voice.

Vince's face reddened noticeably and he clenched his jaw in frustration. The hatred Snyder had of Vince was returned back to the warden tenfold.

"What of the boy, Snyder? Surely you will not leave him undisciplined?"

Snyder held back the urge to roll his eyes and instead said, "Send him into me before you go back to the kitchen."

Vince bowed as well as his large build would allow, more out of necessity than respect, and hastily departed from Snyder's office. Not even sparing Ray a glance, the chef said, "Your turn kid." And with that, he clambered down the stairs back to his duties in the kitchen, grumbling all the way.

Ray said a silent prayer before slowly opening the door to Snyder's office and stepping inside.

"Close the door, Raymond, and come sit," Snyder said, gesturing towards a chair placed in front of his desk. This chair, unlike the one outside, was made of black leather. Looking around him, Lead noticed that the walls of the office were bare save for a large, elaborately painted portrait of a Hispanic woman. The woman wore a dress of green velvet, and her hair, midnight black, framed her small, delicate face and fell past her shoulders in a wave of ebony beauty. Lead thought the woman to be very elegant in appearance and wondered if the warden actually knew her. That was something he would have to ask the others boys in the bunkroom that night... that is, if he ever got out of the office alive.

Ray brought himself out of his thoughts and did as he was instructed before he had to be told again. He stiffly sat down on the edge of the chair, unwilling to let his guard down. Ray was fairly new to the refuge and so had no way of knowing what was in store for him, although he had heard many stories from some of the older boys about Snyder, none of them being very pleasant.

Ray waited in painstaking silence as Snyder shuffled around papers on his desk before the warden finally clasped his hands in front of him and proceeded to stare Ray down with his piercing, unwavering gaze.

"Mr. Fieldman has informed me of your failure to report to the kitchen before dinner today," Snyder said, his face robbed of all emotion. Ray said nothing. The warden allowed the silence between them to thicken before continuing. "Have you forgotten the work schedule, Raymond?" Silence from Ray.

Snyder opened a drawer of his desk and took out a sheet of paper. He looked over it before saying, "According to the work schedule, you were to help in the kitchen during dinnertime and then proceed to serve the faculty their meals. Is that not correct?"

Ray nodded his head ever so slightly

"Then why, Raymond, did you not report to the kitchens as you were instructed?"

Ray silently debated whether he should remain mute or if he should simply confess to why he hadn't gone to the kitchen. Deciding on the latter, Ray mumbled in a barely audible voice, "I was on the roof, sir."

Snyder raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. He hadn't been expecting a confession from the small boy. Honesty was not a common attribute of the boys of the refuge. As he wrote a few brief words on the paper in front of him, Snyder asked of Ray, "Are you not aware of the rule forbidding anyone who's not faculty on the rooftop?"

Ray nodded slightly, and suddenly, with a jerk of his head, looked Snyder square in the eye. "Yes sir, I knew I wasn't supposed to be up there. But you see, sir, the view from the roof is so much better than that of the windows inside. You can see the whole city from the rooftop, and the air is so refreshing up there! One can really _breathe_!" Ray exclaimed in a sudden outburst. His eyes took on a dreamy look as he recalled how pleasant the rooftop had been. The warm sun and slight breeze coupled with the outstanding view he had witnessed of the city had been the reason Ray had stayed up there for so long, completely forgetting his duties.

Snyder, not to be outdone, held Ray's gaze until the boy was forced to look away.

"Do you consider that to be a legitimate excuse, Raymond?"

Ray shook his head. "No sir, it's not an excuse. It's just my explanation."

Snyder shook his head at the boy in disbelief. Back-talking and smart-alec remarks he was used to, but this boy was different than the others. Raymond didn't have the defiant gleam in his eye that most of the refuge boys had, but he also was seemingly unafraid of Snyder, something unheard of in boys of Raymond's age. Snyder had been looking over Raymond's file and had noticed that the boy was not in the refuge for theft or some other punishable crime, as was the case with most of the boys. Raymond had been placed in the refuge only two weeks before because his parents had been killed in a bank robbery. The boy had no other family and therefore was sent to the refuge until he reached the age of twenty-one, was adopted, or escaped. Most boys attempted to escape the refuge at least once in their time there, but Snyder doubted that Raymond would try anything like that. He was too smart and too obedient, "_despite _some_ people's opinions_", thought Snyder, his mood soured by the thought of Vincent. _What a repulsive, foul. . . _

"Excuse me, sir, but it's almost time for lights out in the bunkroom. May I be dismissed?" inquired Ray, his boyish voice interrupting Snyder's thoughts.

Snyder nodded absently and gestured towards the door with his hand. "You may go, Raymond. But I do not wish to hear another complaint about your daydreaming again, is that clear?"

Ray nodded, said a quick, "Yes sir," and left the office as quickly as possible. As soon as he had closed the door behind him, Ray let out a sigh of relief. He had survived his first encounter with Snyder and had left with barely a warning. Suddenly remembering that it was almost lights out, Ray made a mad-dash for the bunkroom. There was no way he was going to risk another trip to Snyder's office for dawdling in the hallway.

--

Ray sat on his bunk surrounded by all of the other boys in his bunkroom. (The bunkroom Ray had been placed in was for boys ranging from ten to sixteen.) The boys around him listened to his story in silence. Word had quickly gotten out about Ray's visit to Snyder's office, and Ray had been bombarded with questions the moment he had burst into the bunkroom. Some of the older boys rolled their eyes when they learned Ray had gotten off scott-free, but they were secretly just as eager as the younger boys were to hear Ray's story. When Ray came to the part in his story about the portrait of the stunning woman, a faint chuckle was heard from across the room. All heads turned towards the source of the sound, their attention no longer focused on Ray.

A boy about fifteen or sixteen years old sat on one of the top bunks, surveying the boys of the refuge one by one. He looked down at the boys gathered around Ray in amusement before he jumped down onto the floor and gently pushed some other boys aside in order to get to Ray. Upon closer inspection, Ray noticed that the boy was not much taller than himself, although he was a good two years Ray's senior. The boy's hair was dark, his skin tan. Ray suddenly found himself eager to know everything about the boy; his name, where he had come from, why he was in the refuge. . .

"Da goil you saw on da wall was Clara, Snyder's wife, before she died. Snyder loved her so much, he paid a small fortune just ta have a portrait painted of her. Goddamn waste of money, if ya ask me. He could've just taken a photograph of her. Would've been a hell of a lot cheaper," the boy informed Ray, sitting down on the bunk beside Ray's.

"So is that why he's so mean? Because his wife died?" asked one of the younger boys.

The older boy shrugged. "Could be. Some folks say he was a decent guy before Clara died. Guess he wasn't always da monster he is now," the boy added, sitting back on the bunk with his hands clasped behind his head. He sighed contentedly, and it seemed to Ray as if the boy was very comfortable as the center of attention.

"Lights out!" yelled one of the faculty from the bunkroom doorway. All of the boys went back to their own bunks and crawled under the covers. The man at the door, after seeing that all of the boys were settled down, blew out the candles illuminating the room and walked back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The room was left in darkness.

"Dis your foist time in da refuge, kid?" whispered a voice besides Ray.

Ray was caught off guard, having thought that the older boy had gone back to his bunk, but recognized the voice and replied, "Yes it is. I was sent here two weeks ago." Ray could hear the bunk groan as the older boy shifted into a different position.

"So whatcha in for?" the boy asked.

Ray inwardly flinched at the question but knew that it had been coming. "My parents were killed a month ago. I don't have any other family, so I was sent here."

Silence settled between the two before the boy said, "That's rough, kid. I'm sorry about your family."

Ray smiled slightly to himself. He had a feeling that he and this boy would get along well.

"I don't think I caught your name, kid," the boy said.

"Oh right," said Ray, wondering how they had gone through a whole conversation without knowing the other's identity. "I'm Ray... Raymond Osbourne. How about you?"

Hidden from the sight of Ray in the thick darkness, the boy let a smirk work its way onto his face. "My name? Most of me chums call me Racetrack Higgins."


	3. III

10 December 2006

Author's Note: Part Three! Yay! I think this was a pretty quick update, at least for me. So, that rascal Cowboy makes an appearance in this chapter, and that makes me happy! Thank you xLittlexItalyx and Garen Ruy Maxwell for reviewing! You guys are my first reviewers and I appreciate it. More reviews are welcome, but, of course, not necessary. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from _Newsies_ or claim to own them.

--

From Beginning to End

III

_Race asked him to tell their story, beginning to end. Lead has an empty notepad and a sharp pencil, and that's all he needs._

--

"So how old are ya, Ray?" Racetrack asked one week later as they ate their lunches in the refuge cafeteria. Cold soup, vegetables, and milk were the lunch that day (as it was every day.)

"Thirteen. I'll be fourteen next month," replied Ray, trying to conceal the pride in his voice. To him, the age of fourteen seemed so. . . grown up.

Racetrack nodded absently and pushed his vegetables from one side of his tray to the other. Ray held back a sigh. Lately, he had been noticing how distant his new friend seemed that day. Ray tried not to be hurt by Race's lack of interest and attention.

Racetrack suddenly looked up from his tray and said to Ray, "You wanna get outta here, kid?"

Ray looked back at Race quizzically. "What do you mean? Out of the cafeteria?"

Race shook his head and looked away. Ray sighed in exasperation. He wasn't enjoying this strange mood that Race was in. Ever since the night of Ray's trip to Snyder's office, Racetrack and Ray had become as close as brothers. Race had continued to sleep in the bunk beside Ray's, abandoning his former bunk across the room. Every night they would stay up whispering to each other until one of the other boys would irritably yell at them to shut their traps. Ray had learned that Racetrack was in the refuge for one month for talking back to an officer. He also learned that Race was a sixteen year old poker expert. One of the only things Ray had to look forward to during his days at the refuge was playing cards with Race at night. Racetrack taught Ray how to play poker, and they would spend hours with cards in their hands before they would finally retire to their beds. Racetrack made Ray's life in the refuge all the more bearable. That was why Ray was becoming annoyed with his friend; Race was not acting like himself and had said barely two sentences to Ray the whole morning.

Race suddenly leaned forward over the table so that his face was inches away from Ray's and lowered his voice. "What I meant was, do ya wanna get outta _here_, da refuge."

Ray's eyes widened. He had heard many boys talking about escape before, but Race had never partaken in those conversations. Ray was shocked that his friend would want to take such a big risk.

"Da preparations are all made. We've got it all woiked out, me and Jack."

_Jack Kelley_. . . Ray had heard many stories about the famous Cowboy, leader of the Manhattan newsies. In the refuge, he was notorious for his great escape from the refuge on the back of Teddy Roosevelt's carriage. He was also famed for the newsie's strike he had led that past summer. Ray was confused about how Race had managed to communicate with Jack.

Race seemed to read Ray's mind by saying, "I had a visit from Jack late last night at da window. He said he's plannin' on gettin' me outta here tonight." He paused, as if to let Ray process the new information. Race continued. "I told him about ya, and he said you're welcome to come if ya want."

Ray looked at Racetrack in uncertainty, while Race returned the gaze eagerly. It was obvious to Ray that Racetrack wanted him to escape with that night. Ray was flattered, but was also slightly hesitant to agree to go. By leaving the refuge, he would be breaking a rule, and Ray was not one to break rules. He could picture himself out in the city, freezing from the cold and running from the law.

Ray's hesitant manner did not go unnoticed by Racetrack. "If ya come tonight, you could stay at da newsie's lodgin' house. Kloppman wouldn't mind. Hell, maybe I'd even teach ya ta become a newsie. And if Snyder or anyone else evah came looking for ya, me and Jack and all da other newsies would protect ya. . . So what do ya say, kid?"

Ray looked around him. He realized how much he would be giving up if he left with Race. In the refuge, he was insured safety, a warm bed, and three meals a day. From what Race had told him, the life of a newsie wasn't always so glamorous. If you didn't make enough money selling papers, you would very likely find yourself sleeping in a doorway or on a park bench. Race had also said that there had been times when he had had to go without food for days at a time. The nuns from the convent always had warm rolls for the newsboys in the mornings, but that was sometimes the only meal they ate, especially in the frigid winter months when there were few street vendors one could "borrow" from.

And yet. . . Ray wasn't so sure if he wanted to spend more than seven years of his life locked up in the refuge, hidden from the adventure and excitement of New York. The opportunity of freedom Race was so generously offering to Ray was irresistible. Maybe the life of a newsie was less than perfect, but Race seemed to love it anyways. According to Racetrack, "It's da only way ta live."

Taking a deep breath and looking Racetrack in the eye, Ray finally answered, "I'll come."

Immense relief washed over Racetrack. It was obvious that he had desperately wanted Ray to come with him. He had become strangely attached to the kid, even though they had just met a week ago. From the start, Race had been able to tell that Ray was different. At night, when they played poker together, Ray seemed to play for the fun of it, unlike Race, who played to win (winning other people's money made him especially happy.) Race was eager to teach Ray the ways of the Manhattan newsies. He had a feeling the kid would be a natural at it. Secretly, Race was also eager to show off his new friend to the other newsies. Ray was smart, smarter than most boys his age, and Race felt that he would fit right in.

_Bong!_ The bell signaling the end of lunch. Race sighed and stood up from the table. He had been hoping to discuss his plans for that night with Ray, but it would have to wait until later.

"We'll talk more tonight, Ray," promised Racetrack.

Ray nodded his agreement. Then both boys went off in separate directions to their afternoon duties.

--

That night, Racetrack and Ray did not play cards together. Instead, when all of the other boys had fallen asleep, the boys sat together in a corner of the bunkroom and discussed their plans in low voices. Race had managed to find a small stub of a candle which the boys lit as they talked.

"Jack'll be here a little aftah midnight, befoah dawn. A couple othah guys will be on da roof ta help out. Jack said he'll come to da window with anothah rope for us ta use. You'll go foist. Me and Jack will tie da rope around your waist, den one of da other guys on da roof will pull ya up. Understand so far?" Racetrack asked in a serious tone.

Ray nodded. "Then what?"

Racetrack took a deep breath and continued. "Then, aftah they pull me up, we'll all go down da fire escape, get through the hole in the fence outside da refuge, and head back to da lodging house. It's pretty simple. Jack's gotten tons of newsies outta here befoah without getting caught."

_Simple?_ Ray sighed and stared into the flame of the candle. He could feel Race's gaze on him, but could not look him in the eye. The seriousness of what they were about to do was beginning to dawn on Ray. All throughout the day he had been convincing himself that Race knew what he was doing, that no one would catch them, that he would become a newsie. _But now that the moment is almsot here, I'm not so sure anymore_, thought Ray.

Race watched his friend closely. Ray was gazing into the flame, deep in thought. Race ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. It was obvious that Ray was having second thoughts, and Race was worried that he would decide not to go after all. _Maybe he just needs some reassurin'_, Race thought to himself before moving closer to Ray.

"Hey kid?" Race asked in a soft voice.

Ray looked up at Racetrack. "Yeah?"

Race put his arm around Ray's shoulder in a brotherly gesture, looked him in the eye, and said in a soothing tone, "Ya gotta trust me, Ray. I sweat to ya dat befoah da sun wakes up da city, you and me will be safe in da lodgin' house, sleepin' in our bunks."

Ray looked into Racetrack's eyes as he said this and felt a huge weight lifted off of his shoulders. He was no longer unsure of what he wanted to do. Upon hearing Racetrack's words, Ray knew that Race meant what he said.

Ray smiled up at Racetrack, his confidence fully renewed. "Thanks, Race. I do trust you."

Race grinned at his friend. "I'm glad, Ray." And he was. "Jack won't be here for anothah couple of hours. Why dontcha try and get some sleep, Ray. I'll wait by da window and wake ya up when Jack comes."

Ray shook his head. "I'd rather stay up. I don't think I could sleep at all tonight."

Race smiled and nodded. "Alright den. We'll wait togethah."

Racetrack blew out the candle and stood up. After helping Ray up to his feet, the two boys quietly walked over to the window and sat down. In a contented silence, they awaited the arrival of Jack.

--

A soft tapping at the window aroused Racetrack from sleep. He rubbed his eyes and looked around him. _What time is it?_ he thought to himself. He couldn't remember falling asleep and was worried that they might've missed Jack. . .

The tapping noise came again, this time louder and more demanding. Racetrack quickly opened the window. To his relief, Jack was hanging from a rope outside the window. He had a very annoyed look on his face.

"Twenty minutes, Race. I've been hangin' here for twenty damn minutes, freezing my ass off, while you were in their snoozing."

Racetrack smiled and put on an innocent expression. "Sorry Cowboy. Guess I fell asleep."

Jack fought back a grin. He could never stay mad at Race for long. "Yeah, I guess ya did. So where's the kid you were talkin' bout? You guys ready ta get outta here?"

"Lemme wake 'em up. Den we can go." Race said. Leaning down to Ray, Racetrack gently shook him by the shoulder. "Wake up, Ray."

Ray opened his eyes as he felt Race shaking him. "Okay, I'm up," he muttered sleepily. "Is Jack here?"

Race nodded. "Yeah, he's right here. It's time ta go." Racetrack helped Ray up to his feet and said to Jack, "Hand me da othah rope, there, Jack. I'll tie it around Ray foist."

Jack called up to someone on the roof. "Drop da othah rope down, Blink. Get ready ta pull da foist one up."

A second rope was lowered down to the window and Jack handed it in to Race. Race then tied it around Ray's waist in a complicated knot, helped Ray up onto the windowsill, and nodded to Jack. After yelling "Go!" up to the roof, Ray felt himself being pulled up the side of the building to the rooftop. In less than a minute, he was safely standing on the roof of the refuge along with two other boys who introduced themselves as Mush and Kid Blink. _Do all newsies have such odd names?_ thought Ray as he introduced himself to the two boys.

Mush and Kid Blink then pulled up both Jack and Racetrack. Ray stood to the side and watched, unsure if he was expected to help. He didn't have long to wait. In a matter of minutes, both boys were pulled up on to the roof. Racetrack embraced both Mush and Blink as soon as he was safely on the roof.

"Thanks for coming, you guys," he said warmly.

"No problem," said Blink, grinning.

"Wasn't da same without ya, Race," added Mush.

Jack nodded his agreement before saying. "Alright, let's get outta here. We still gotta get through da fence."

Without another word, the five boys silently climbed down the fire escape and made their way over to the gates of the refuge. One man guarded the gates. As quietly as they could, the boys crept past the guard and, one by one, began climbing through a large gap in the fence Ray was the last one in line. Just as he was almost through the fence, Ray felt someone pulling him back. The guard had found the boys.

"Oh no you don't," grunted the guard as he attempted to pull Ray back.

"Race! Help!" Ray cried, fighting against the guard and desperetely trying to get through the fence.

Race whipped around at Ray's plea for help and grabbed Ray's arm. "Hey guys! Come and here and help!" Race called to the other boys. All five of the boys struggled to pull Ray through the fence. Finally, the boys tumbled backwards with Ray safely in their arms.

"Hurry up and get outta here!" yelled Jack to the others as the guard began climbing through the fence after them. The boys all jumped up and ran in the direction of the lodging house. After only a few minutes, the guard gave up the chase and made his way back to the refuge, cursing all the way.

When the five boys reached the lodging house, they found the doors to be locked (it was after curfew, after all.) So they were forced to climb up the fire escape and climb through the unlocked window of the bunkroom. All of them were exhausted from the night's activities, so they said their goodnights and retired to their bunks.

"Come on ovah here, Ray. Dere's an empty bunk beside mine for ya." whispered Racetrack. Both boys collapsed on their bunks without bothering to undress. The last thing Ray said to Racetrack before he fell asleep was, "Thanks for keeping your promise, Race."


	4. IV

1 January, 2007

Author's Note: Happy New Year, everybody! Yes, I know, I know, I haven't updated _forever_, but what can I say? I'm lazy. So I hope this story satisfies all of you readers. I know that it's kind of long, but I just couldn't stop writing. I guess that's a good thing; at least I don't have writer's block. . . yet. Well, thanks to my reviewers, they helped a lot, trust me! Never hesitate to e-mail or PM me with any questions you may have about this story or anything you don't understand. Suggestions are also welcome. Enjoy this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from _Newsies_ or claim to own them.

--

From Beginning to End

IV

_Race asked him to tell their story, beginning to end. Lead has an empty notepad and a sharp pencil, and that's all he needs._

--

Ray was roughly awakened out of a deep sleep by someone shaking him by the shoulder. He turned over on his other side but the shaking continued. Groaning in protest, Ray pulled the covers up over his head. Much to his relief, the shaking ceased. Just when he began to fall asleep again, Ray felt his warm covers being whipped off of him, leaving him no choice but to open his eyes. Racetrack stood above him with an amused expression on his face, Ray's blankets held triumphantly in his arms.

"Rise and shine, kiddo. Time ta get up," Race said cheerfully, laughing as Ray shot him a deathly glare. "Well, someone sure ain't a mornin' person," he quipped, further adding to Ray's annoyance.

Ray grumbled as he slowly pulled himself out of bed and followed Racetrack to the washroom. Looking out the window he could see the early morning sunshine beginning to wake the snow-covered city. _It can't be later than seven o' clock_, he thought to himself. After the long night he had experienced, Ray wasn't sure if he would be able to stay awake throughout the day.

Ray watched as Racetrack hunted around the washroom for something. He could feel many curious eyes looking him over and realized suddenly that he was still dressed in his clothes from the refuge. Racetrack had obviously thought of that also because, after searching around, he handed Ray a white button-up shirt, brown trousers with red suspenders, and a pair of weathered brown boots.

"Dese are some clothes for ya ta change into. Dey're just some extras dat someone grew out of. Dey should fit ya pretty well," Racetrack said as he presented the garments to Ray.

Ray nodded his appreciation, still not completely awake yet. Racetrack was now rummaging in a large maple cabinet, again looking for something. Ray looked around him at the other newsies. It seemed that they ranged from age six to seventeen. The boys were going about their business: showering, shaving, calling out the occasional, "good morning". Ray spotted Kid Blink and Mush fighting over one of the mirrors.

"Ya had it foist yesterday, Blink. It's my turn ta use it foist!" cried Mush in complaint.

Blink elbowed Mush in the ribs before saying, "Ain't no way I'm lettin' ya have da only mirror dat's not cracked."

Mush hit Blink on the back of his head and shoved him down onto the floor. "Now look who has the mirror," he declared smugly.

Blink smiled up at Mush mischievously before grabbing him by the legs and pulling him down onto the floor next to him. The two boys then proceeded to wrestle each other, cheered on by their fellow newsies. Ray found himself smiling at their antics.

"Crazy bums," he heard Racetrack say behind him with a laugh. Ray turned around and laughed with his friend.

"Here's a towel for ya, Ray. Da showers are ovah dere," Race informed him. After looking at Ray closely, Racetrack laughed and said, "Guess ya don't have ta shave yet, do ya, kid?"

For the second time that day, Ray glared at Racetrack, but he soon began laughing with him again. He was beginning to discover how impossible it was to stay mad at Racetrack for long. Taking the towel from his friend, Ray went over to the showers. After a short wait in line, he was able to take a two minute shower. He then proceeded to put on the clothes Racetrack had provided for him and walked over to the mirrors to inspect himself. He was surprised at the reflection staring back at him. _I look just like a newsie_, he thought, growing rather pleased with his new appearance. Before turning away from the mirror, Ray smoothed down his hair. Then, in the reflection of the slightly cracked mirror, Ray saw Racetrack standing behind him, holding something behind his back.

"Almost forgot somethin'," he said before presenting Ray with a brown hat very similar to the one sitting atop Racetrack's head. Ray accepted ti from Racetrack and hesitantly placed it on his head. He smiled. With the hat, he felt that Racetrack was showing how much meaning their friendship had.

"Now ya look like a genuine newsie," Race proclaimed proudly. "And by da end of da day, ya really will be a newsie."

Ray grinned at his friend. "Thanks Racetrack."

Racetrack smiled back and slung an arm over his slightly shorter friend's shoulders. "No prob, Ray. Now let's go out and see if we can find some breakfast. I'm starvin' for some real food, after being in da refuge."

Ray nodded in agreement and remained at Race's side as they made their way out of the lodging house and into the frosty winter morning. Unaccustomed to being out in the cold without a jacket, Ray moved closer to Racetrack for warmth. Racetrack chuckled and wrapped his arm more tightly around Ray's shoulders.

"Guess it is kinda cold. But you'll get used to it eventually," Racetrack assured Ray while smiling down at him.

Ray doubted that he would, but he did not voice that opinion. Instead, he looked about him at the buildings shadowing the deserted street and took in their appearances. Racetrack was leading him down an avenue lined with toy shops and clothing stores boasting colorful displays in their windows. Ray lingered at one store in particular that caught his eye, cheery in appearance. Peering into the display window, Ray realized that it was a toy shop. In the window was a wide array of toys; doll houses, teddy bears, and wooden rocking horses could be seen in the window of the shop. One toy in particular stole Ray's attention from the others. A small wooden woldier carved and painted in intricacy, stood stoically among the other toys. Around th soldier's waist was fastened a tin drum on which the soldier was made to look as if he was beating upon. Ray found himself admiring the details of the wooden figure. Its face was painted on with care, as was its uniform, and a black hat had been placed proudly atop its head. Ray couldn't take his eyes off of the wooden soldier. Memories were beginning o spark inside his mind, and they would not leave him be. . .

_"That's the one, Daddy! That's the one I asked Santa to bring me for Christmas!" exclaimed an ecstatic seven-year-old Ray. He was tugging on Peter Osbourne's arm with one hand and pointing at a toy shop's window display with the other. Many toys were displayed in the shop, but only one caught the small boy's attention. A wooden soldier, small enough to hold in your palm, was what young Ray was admiring in awe. _

_Peter Osbourne adopted a sorrowful expression as his son pointed out the handsomely carved soldier to him. With his low income, Peter knew that there would be no toy soldier under the Christmas tree for Ray come Christmas morn._

_"I thought you wanted some new shoes," Peter said hopefully to his child._

_Ray looked down at his feet. His shoes were worn and a size too small. He desperately needed new shoes, but. . . "Not any more. Now I want a toy soldier. Do you think Santa will bring me one, Daddy? I've been _really_ good," he told his father, gazing up expectantly at him._

_Peter Osbourne sighed and ruffled his only son's hair. He did not have the heart to tell Ray the truth. "I'm sure Santa will do the best he can, Ray."_

_Ray smiled up at his father and took his hand. Then father and son walked home together happily and thought their own thoughts. When Christmas morning came, a brand new pair of shoes lay under the Osbourne's Christmas tree and a very small boy stopped believing in Santa Claus._

"Come on, Ray. We gotta buy our papes and get selling," Racetrack said from behind Ray, jolting him out of his painful memories.

Ray bit his lip and turned away from the toy shop window. _It was only a childish toy. It doesn't matter now_, he thought bitterly. He noticed Racetrack watching him closely.

"What's da matter, kid?"

Ray shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go." He then began walking away from the small shop. Before running to catch up with Ray, Racetrack looked into the shop's display window to see what had soured Ray's mood. He could see nothing out of the ordinary. _Just toys_, he thought to himself. He sighed in puzzlement and ran away from the store to catch up with Ray. Racetrack decided not to ask Ray any questions at that moment, so the two boys walked on in silence until they reached their destination. Warm greetings and friendly handshakes were given to Racetrack and Ray when they joined the other newsies. Ray was introduced to many of Race's friends, and by the time they took their place in line to their papers, Ray was thoroughly familiar with almost everyone.

"Hey Ray! That you, kid? Come ovah here!" called a voice from the front of the line. Ray stood on his toes, and, after looking over the heads of many, saw Jack Kelly waving him over. Ray looked at Racetrack quizzically, who in turn nodded to him.

"Go ahead. I'll buy a hundred papes for us ta split," said Racetrack before gently pushing Ray in Jack's direction. "Don't worry."

Ray hesitantly made his way up to the front of the line where Jack Kelly was buying his papers. He wasn't sure why, but there was something about Jack that made Ray nervous and shy. Even though Racetrack and Jack seemed to be about the same age, Jack seemed to be so much _older_ than him. Not exactly more mature, but he had a confident air about him that made Ray feel small and unimportant. Ray felt ten times more comfortable with Racetrack.

When Ray reached the front of the line, he waited patiently for Jack while he bought his papers. A few boys who Ray had just previously met nodded their hellos to him as he waited. After Jack finished talking to the paper distributors (a rather fat man and two younger men), he turned around and grinned at Ray.

"Look at you! You look like a regular newsie!" he exclaimed as he surveyed the younger boy. He then sat down and began leafing through one of the papers. When he saw Ray still standing, he motioned for him to sit down beside him.

Not taking his eyes off the paper, he asked Ray, "You gettin' along alright so far?"

Ray said, "Yes," and squirmed uncomfortably.

Jack smiled to himself at Ray's edginess. _If I didn't know better, I'd say the kid was afraid of me_, he thought to himself.

"Race helpin' ya out, Ray?" he inquired.

Ray nodded.

"Good. Make sure ya stick with him until you know your way around better, alright?"

"Alright," Ray said, wondering if Jack seriously thought that he would walk around New York City by himself. It was true that New York had always been his home, but that didn't mean that Ray had ever been allowed to roam the city. His parents had been protective, and had never allowed Ray to go out unaccompanied.

Jack watched the younger boy out of the corner of his eye. Ray was staring off into space, seemingly oblivious to everything and everyone around him. _There's something familiar about this kid. It's like I've met him before_, he thought to himself. He puzzled over those thoughts for a few moments before quickly dismissing them. Jack Kelly never thought about anything too much, if he could help it. He preferred to just live in the moment and to not over-analyze.

"You ready ta get going, kiddo?" asked Racetrack from behind Jack and Ray. He had bought one hundred papers for Ray and himself to split and was eager to get out there and start showing Ray the ropes.

Ray jumped up from his sitting position and smiled at Racetrack. He was relieved to leave the uncomfortable silence that had settled between himself and Jack. "I'm ready," he answered eagerly.

Accompanied by many other newsies, Ray and Race made their way out into the streets of Manhattan. The air was immediately filled with the sounds of newsies hawking the morning headlines. The city was now fully awake; people were buzzing about the city, buying their goods and socializing amongst themselves. Racetrack and Ray walked away from the others and made their way to one of Race's selling spots, an industrial part of town.

"Sorry we didn't get any breakfast, kid. It kinda took longer than I thought it would ta get our papes," Race said apologetically.

Ray shrugged. "It's fine. I'm not that hungry right now anyways." It was then that Ray's stomach decided to growl rather loudly in protest to not being fed.

Race sighed and shook his head. "I'll getcha something ta eat after we sell some papes," he promised Ray.

The two boys then made their way to a nearby street corner. Race looked about him, surveying his customers, and took his place on the sidewalk. Turning to Ray, he said, "Da foist thing ya gotta know about being a newsies is dat headlines don't sell papes: newsies sell papes. A good newsie can always improve a headline, no matter what." He paused in his speech to smile and tip his hat to a woman passing by. "To tell da truth, Ray, ya look younger dan your age. And dat's a good thing, when you're a newsie. With your baby-face and my experience, we'll sell more papes than even ol' Cowboy himself." Race grinned down at his friend and patted him on the shoulder. "For right now, ya can just watch me and take it all in. Den we can take a food break, and ya can try out your selling skills!" he said, laughing.

Ray smiled to himself as Racetrack began calling out to the passerby, hawking the morning headlines. As he watched Race, he put everything that the older boy did into his memory, from Race's hand gestures to the way he made eye contact with those who looked his way. After watching him for about ten minutes, Ray found himself eager to start selling alongside his friend. Racetrack seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself. He was definitely in his element.

When he had sold about ten papers, Racetrack decided it was time to move on to a different selling spot. Racetrack was never one to stay in one place for too long. He motioned for Ray to follow him and the two boys began to make their way through the bustling streets of Manhattan. Looking around him as they walked, Ray was astonished at all of the well-dressed people there seemed to be. Ray himself had been born in Manhattan, but the neighborhood that he had lived in had been a relatively poor one. Ray's father worked in a factory and his mother was a maid to a wealthy family. Neither were paid much, so Ray was brought up in a cramped three-room apartment much too small for their family. In his neighborhood, people wore shabby clothes, so Ray had assumed as a child that all mean and women dressed like that. He had never before witnessed so many people in such fashionable attire.

Racetrack noticed the way Ray was excitedly looking about him and smiled to himself. It was obvious to him that Ray had never gotten out much as a child. _I'll hafta show him around sometime_, he thought to himself. Suddenly, Race was jolted out of his thoughts as he was dealt a hard blow to the back of his head. He quickly turned around to see who had hit him and was greeted by a pair of large brown eyes looking into his own. He jumped slightly but calmed down when he saw who it was. _Gimmick. . . _

"What're ya doin' over here in 'Hatty, Gimmick? Shouldn't ya be in Brooklyn?" Racetrack asked the girl standing in front of him.

Ray looked the girl up and down as she stood in front of Racetrack with her hands on her hips. Her hair was a rich auburn color and fell well past her shoulders. From where he was standing, Ray noticed the brown freckles on her cheeks and the creamy color of her skin. He _also _noticed the way Racetrack was looking at her...

"I wanted to come see you guys. Spot's been annoying me lately so I was hoping I could hang around here for awhile. I saw you and your friend walking here and I just couldn't resist," she informed Racetrack with a feminine giggle.

Racetrack nodded and smirked at her. "Well, you'll hafta talk ta Jack if you're wantin' ta stay, but you're certainly welcome ta sell with us today."

Gimmick laughed and smiled at Racetrack. Ray fought off the urge to vomit as the two continued to smile at each other.

Racetrack finally seemed to remember Ray's presence. Hastily, he moved to Ray's side and said to Gimmick, "This is my friend, Ray, from the refuge. I'm teaching him the ropes right now."

Gimmick nodded and smiled at Ray. "I'm Gimmick," she simply said. She then turned back to Racetrack and said brightly, "How about we over to Tibby's? I'm pretty hungry, so I wanted to get something to eat. Okay?"

Racetrack fought to keep the eagerness out of his voice. "Yeah, sure. My treat, I'll buy out three of us lunch."

Gimmick agreed and the three of them began walking in the direction of Tibby's restaurant. Ray lagged behind the two slightly and pondered over the girl who had so suddenly appeared. He decided that she was probably fourteen or fifteen. It was obvious that Racetrack was more than friends with her, or at least wanted to be. Ray was confused at who she was exactly and was slightly hurt at the way Racetrack had discarded of him so quickly for a dame. . . Ray then felt Racetrack put his arm around his shoulders and heard him softly say in his ear, "Sorry, Ray. I kinda forgot myself. Girls like Gimmick always do that ta me. Are ya alright?"

Keeping his eyes on the ground, Ray managed to mumble, "Yeah. It's fine."

"Good. Now let's get some lunch. I'm starving. Everyone else is probably already there."

Ray nodded and kept walking. Gimmick was walking on Racetrack's left and Ray was on his right. They walked to Tibby's in silence. A small bell announced their arrival as they walked through the door of the restaurant. Many newsies called out their greetings to them. From across the room, Jack, who was sitting at a small table in the corner with some others, motioned for them to come over. Racetrack led them over to Jack and all of them took a seat for themselves and sat down.

"Are ya learning anything from Racetrack, Ray?" asked Crutchy, who was sitting beside Ray.

Ray nodded. "Race seems to be an expert at selling papers. He makes it seem really easy."

Crutchy smiled. "Dat's da truth, Ray. Racetrack's been sellin' since he was only nine, and that's longer than Jack himself."

Ray smiled to himself at the image of a nine-year-old Racetrack hawking headlines and playing poker on the streets.

"So. . . I see you've met Gimmick, Ray. What do ya think of her?" asked Jack from Ray's other side. Ray rolled his eyes, although he tried not to. Jack was extremely amused at Ray's obvious disgust and laughed. Softly, so that only Ray would be able to hear, Jack said, "I'm not too fond of her myself, but Racetrack's always been head-over-heels in love with her. She's from Brooklyn and hangs out with her. She's from Brooklyn and hangs out with Spot Conlon's gang. In my opinion, she's a prissy tart who thinks she's above everyone else." Jack paused to take a drink of his ice water and to steal a glance at Race and Gimmick. Racetrack was laughing at something Gimmick had said and she was giving him a sickeningly sweet smile. Jack shook his head at them and turned back to Ray. "The way she toys with Ray is disgusting. She knows he likes her, and she also knows that he'll do anything to please her. She and I don't get along. . . and I can see that ya don't like her much either. You've got good taste, Ray. I'd stay away from her if I were you," he said. He then stood up and tousled Ray's hair before saying, "Well, I'm gettin' outta here. I'll see ya later, kid. Take care."

Ray watched Jack say goodbye to the others and walk out of the restaurant. He began to ponder over all that Jack had said about Gimmick. He could sense that something had happened between Jack and Gimmick, although he wasn't sure what. _Maybe Racetrack will tell me more later_, he thought to himself. A waiter then came to their table and began to take their orders. Ray decided to let all thoughts about Gimmick fade away until later. He was confident that his questions would be answered later. The only thing he was thinking about at that moment was the hot lunch that he would soon be devouring.


	5. V

_25 July, 2007_

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from _Newsies_ or claim to own them.

--

From Beginning to End

V

_Race asked him to tell their story, beginning to end. Lead has an empty notepad and a sharp pencil, and that's all he needs._

--

Ray, Racetrack, and Gimmick spent the rest of the afternoon selling their remaining papers. Despite the fact that Gimmick was selling with them, Ray found himself having the time of his life. Selling papers wasn't exactly a breeze, but it didn't take much time before he had already sold ten of his papers. More than once, he saw Racetrack watching him talk to and convince customers to buy. Ray could tell that Racetrack was impressed with him. Ray occasionally watched Gimmick out of the corner of his eye. It was obvious that it was not her first time selling papers. In the time that it took Ray to sell five papers, she had already sold nearly twenty. Ray became frustrated by watching Gimmick, so he instead focused on selling. By late afternoon, the three of them had sold all one hundred of their papers.

"So are ya plannin' on bumming around with me and Ray for awhile, Gimmick?" asked Racetrack as he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them. The grey December sky had begun to fill with black clouds that promised snow later on.

Gimmick shook her head. "No. I think I'll go find that Jack Kelly. I didn't get a chance to talk to him at Tibby's, and I still need to ask him bout staying in the lodging house tonight. Do you know where I could find him, Racetrack?"

Racetrack thought for a moment before saying, "I think he said something about going over to Harlem today. He might be there. If he is, he'll probably be with Bailey." He rolled his eyes as he spoke.

Gimmick seemed slightly surprised at Race's words but quickly composed herself and laughed. "So Cowboy has a crush on Miss Bailey Jordan? She could do a lot better than him. I think I'll head on over to Harlem, maybe break up their little meeting," she announced, smiling to herself at the thought of walking in on any possible cuddling between Jack and Bailey.

Racetrack looked over at Ray during Gimmick's ramblings. Ray had a look of annoyance on his face, and Racetrack didn't blame him. As fond as he was of Gimmick, she did get on his nerves more than occasionally. Ray caught Racetrack's eye and Race discreetly motioned to Gimmick and rolled his eyes. Race was glad to see Ray smile. He could see that Ray wasn't fond of Gimmick, and it ailed him that two of his closest friends couldn't get along. _I'll have a talk with him tonight when we get back to da lodging house. He needs to know dat Gimmick isn't as bad as Jack and da others make her out to be_, he thought.

"Wish me luck, Racetrack. Hopefully, you'll see me tonight at the lodging house," said Gimmick. With a flick of her wrist, she waved goodbye and walked off in the direction of Harlem.

Racetrack watched her as she disappeared into the crowds of Manhattan. Sighing, Race turned to Ray and smiled weakly. "Well... she sure is something, isn't she?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "She sure is," he said sarcastically.

Racetrack laughed and shook his head. "It's getting' chilly. Let's go get warm."

Ray agreed completely. He had never been outside for so long in the cold without some kind of jacket on. His fingers felt numb and he was desperate for a warm fire to sit by.

Racetrack had an idea of where he and Ray would go. He began to lead Ray in the direction of their destination. Ray vaguely wondered where they were going but really didn't care, as long as it was warm where Racetrack was taking him.

In a matter of minutes, the two boys found themselves standing in front of a large brick building. A plaque beside the doorway declared the building the headquarters of The Sun newspaper.

Ray looked at Racetrack quizzically. "What are we doing here?"

Racetrack smiled and opened the heavy door. "Don't worry. Just follow me." He walked inside of the building with Ray in tow and closed the door behind him. A secretary, seated at a small desk, peered suspiciously at the boys as they entered the building.

Ignoring the untrustworthy look on her face, Racetrack smiled and tipped his hat at her. "Good afternoon, ma'am. Me and my friend here are wantin' ta see Bryan Denton. Would ya mind tellin' him dat Racetrack's here? Thanks." Without waiting for a response, Racetrack turned away from the woman and smiled at Ray. The secretary grumbled under her breath about "the gall of children these days" and stood up from her desk to inform the reporter of his visitors.

As soon as she had left, Ray asked Racetrack, "Who is Bryan Denton? And how do you know him well enough to come and see him?"

Racetrack smiled and leaned on the secretary's desk. "Denton's a reporter for The Sun newspaper. He helped us newsies out a lot last summer with da strike and he lets us visit him whenever we feel like it. Of course, the secretary's are never too happy ta have us street rats foulin' up da place, but they can't do anything about it." He chuckled to himself at the flustered secretary who despised him so much.

Ray was somewhat surprised that the newsies trusted an adult so much. He had always thought of them as independent and defiant, unwilling to listen to anyone but themselves. _Bryan Denton... I wonder what he's like..._ Ray thought.

The secretary then came back into the room and resumed her place at her desk. Stiffly, she said to the boys, "Mr. Denton's in a meeting. He will be out shortly, so I suggest that you go up to his office and wait for him there."

"Thank ya, my dear lady. We'll escort ourselves ta his office, no need ta get up," Racetrack said to the woman, smiling innocently. The secretary merely shook her head and went back to her work. Racetrack chuckled to himself. He always got a kick out of annoying secretaries. It never got old.

Winking at the woman one last time, Racetrack led Ray over to a stairway leading up to the second floor of the building. The two boys went up the stairs and Ray followed Racetrack down a hallway of offices until they stopped at the last door. A rectangular plaque read simply, "Bryan Denton".

--

A/N: Jeezem, it sure has been awhile since my last update! Sorry about the long wait, I'm extremely lazy. I've been working on this chapter for a long time, and I'm aware that not much happens in it. Originally, this chapter was _much_ longer, (about ten pages longer!) but I just decided that I would cut it off before they went into Denton's office. I know that this chapter is kinda short now, but the next update will be really soon since I already have about half of it written.

Thanks to the reviewers of the last few chapters. Your reviews have helped me immensely!

Also, thanks to xLittlexItalyx for letting me use her character Bailey. Don't worry, Bailey will be making an actual appearance soon.

Okay, that's about it. Please review, it will help me more than you can imagine. I'm open to constructive criticism and any suggestions or comments that you have. Thanks in advance!


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